29. Penelope #2
I pulled my hand back, wiping my face as I nodded. Agent Marchase stood, heading back to the other side to take a seat, removing a notepad from her inside jacket pocket.
“It started… half a year ago, I guess? It was phone calls. At the time, my parents were trying to marry me off. They wanted me to hold a title.”
“Naturally,” the agent said, nodding.
“I had an introduction with Lord Shorelam—Edwin. I thought everything had gone great, but my father said he’d decided I wasn’t right for him.
” I rubbed my hands down my face. “My parents were not happy with me. My father.” I glanced up, only to lower my eyes as if I were embarrassed.
“My father was not a good man. He would beat me when he wasn’t happy.
Sometimes it was really bad. During that time, a man started calling me. ”
“A man. Let’s pause here for a moment. Did the man ever tell you how he got your number?”
I let my gaze search the desk as I thought back.
“No. He never told me.”
“Okay. What can you tell me about his voice. Did he hold any accents that might have stood out?”
Again, I let my mind wander, hearing Vaughn’s voice slip through. His rich laughter. His deep tone. The slight American accent mixed with his British one.
“I wish he did. He sounded like any man from the area.”
What almost looked to be a frown appeared.
“So, local.” She wrote that down, scribbling in a few more things.
“And what would this man talk to you about?”
My fingers laced, and the agent snapped her gaze to them. I took note, turning my movements more nervous than composed.
“Truthfully, he didn’t talk much. I was ordered to sit in the window when we talked that way he could watch me. Aside from weird things like that, he’d just listen. He wanted to know what I liked. What my plans were. What I was doing. He… knew things.”
“Like what?”
Tighter, I twisted my fingers together.
“He knew my father beat me, and that my mother sometimes did too. They were horrible. I… I think I caused this, Agent Marchase.”
Tears raced down my face as I pleaded to her with my eyes.
“Why do you think that?”
“I can’t get this one part of our conversation out of my mind.
I was reading a book at the time. It was about an adventurer named Poppy.
I told him how much I loved her freedom and that I wish I could go on adventures like that.
I asked him once, ‘do you ever feel like you want to run away or disappear’?
He got quiet for a long time. Then, he asked, ‘do you really want to disappear?’” I sobbed.
“I think that was the last time I talked to him. I was in a rush for dinner, so I never answered his question. It wasn’t much longer after that I was taken.
” Harder, I sobbed. “I did this. I never thought—he was so nice to me on the phone. He listened.”
The agent’s hand came to rest on top of mine.
“What do you remember from that night?”
I sniffled, trying to calm the tidal wave of tears that so easily left me.
“My father… he’d hurt me again. This time was different.
I could barely walk. Barely move. I think he might have fractured a rib or two.
” My hand lifted to my face. “He’d never beat me that badly, but that night, I told him I didn’t want to marry.
I was angry that he wanted to get an introduction for me to yet another old man.
I just—I wanted freedom to love.” A desperate sound left me, as did more lies.
“He snapped and went crazy. My mother got home shortly after. When she saw the damage, she gave me some pills to take for the pain. That’s when I fell asleep.
I awoke a few hours later. I wasn’t sure why at first. I thought I heard something. When I tried to get up, I was really dizzy. I managed to get to the bathroom where I became ill. It was when I was headed back to bed that I heard heavy footsteps along with… sounds. Odd sounds.”
Biting into my bottom lip, I tried to stop it from trembling. The adrenaline-laced anxiety was coming back at the memories.
“It was dark as I went down the stairs, but then I noticed my father’s office light was on.
The door was open. The closer I got, the more I realized there was something ahead in the dark hallway.
Like…” my hands moved in an arc. “My mother. I saw her clearly just as I got level with my father’s office door.
That’s when I saw the masked man for the first time.
He was by my father’s desk, and so was my dad.
He yelled at me to run.” More tears. “I couldn’t. ”
“Breathe, Ms. Taylor. It’s alright. What happened, then?”
I swallowed hard. “My father, he was beaten so badly he was barely recognizable. He had blood covering his chest. He’d been stabbed.
I saw that as he collapsed. I ran then, but the masked man caught up to me almost instantly.
He put something over my nose and mouth.
Sometime after that is when I woke up in the cement room. ”
Slowly, her head nodded.
“There’s not much to tell after that. Every day was the same.
He came in. Sometimes he’d just watch me.
Other times he’d… touch me. We’d fight. A lot.
He seemed to like me fighting him. And he raped me.
He said I’d never leave. That I was his, and I’d be there until I died.
Which… sometimes he hinted would be soon.
It never made sense. He wanted me, but he wanted to hurt me. ”
“But you escaped.”
“Yes. He disappeared a lot. Mostly during the day, which made me think he had some sort of job. He’d come back at night, or sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time.
I had food in a fridge down there, so I never really ran out of what I needed.
But… that day was different. I heard him arguing with someone upstairs.
Maybe he was on the phone, I don’t know.
But he said he was tired of whatever they were doing.
He hung up and came down, where I immediately knew he wanted to fight.
We did. But then the phone rang again. He rushed from the room after that.
So fast he forgot to bolt the door. I waited a little, and then I ran. ”
“This house—”
My head shook. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to remember.
It was… dark there. Like…a backyard maybe.
I went through some bushes. I was running so fast but trying to stay hidden.
Houses and shops blurred by. I felt so disoriented.
I wasn’t even sure where I was until I suddenly saw the house by the bakery.
That’s when I knew I wasn’t far from home. ”
“I see.”
Agent Marchase sat silently, seeming to go over what I told her.
“You never saw this man without his mask?”
“Never. Not with my eyes. He slept with me one night, and I felt his face. It was beyond dark in that room. All I could do was feel.”
“And what did you feel?”
The relief that I wasn’t hooked up to a polygraph had me sitting up straighter.
“He had stubble. Maybe a light beard. It was rough to the touch. His nose seemed straight. Maybe slightly crooked. I remember pausing because something felt off about it. Eyes. Hair. It was short. Like… a buzz cut or something.”
“Interesting.”
She forced a smile.
“That’s all I know.”
“Thank you for telling me. I know it was hard for you to relive that. Let’s go ahead and get you to your new home. It’s only temporary until we figure out how to proceed, but at least you’ll have a bed, and you’ll be safe.”
“Thank you. I’m so very tired.”
“I know. The first few days of transition are never easy. Tomorrow, we’ll bring in a sketch artist. Do you think you can tell them what you told me?”
I nodded as I stood, following her to the door.
“Yes. I want him caught. I just want to go back to my life.”
My voice cracked at the end, and I sniffled for the millionth time. Exhaustion was setting in, and walking proved almost impossible as I nearly stumbled.
We headed out of the room, taking a left.
The other two agents were in the distance, but I didn’t look at them.
I stayed within myself, trying to figure out what I needed to do next.
I could provide the most generic description to the sketch artist, but then I needed to figure out what I wanted.
In the meantime, Vaughn would be safe. … But what about me?